Sins of my Father
by Sweet Little Bullet
Summary: Hermione Granger finds herself captive in Malfoy manor. Beaten and broken at the hand of the enemy, what happens when an unsuspecting ally saves her and sends her- and the enemy's son- into seclusion?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 **A/N: So I _know_ that I haven't finished The Portrait yet and I do promise to get to it as soon as I'm able. However, this little thing has been plaguing me for _months_ and I had to get it written. As in, it's already done. Huge thanks to Hufflepuffmommy for all your help even when I was pulling my hair out trying to make it right. You're the best huffletwin ever. This story is using an AU and Timeline and will not follow the direct timeline of the books/movies. **

_**WARNING:**_ **this story is going to be vastly different from my others as in, very dark and probably trigger-y (that's a new word. I made it up.) It will deal with mentions of, rape/non-con, torture, and other tough subjects. This isn't for the faint of heart. Please use your best judgement when reading. EDITED TO ADD: For those who have misread or not read this warning at all please note that this story will contain actions and mentions of rape. Please do not continue reading if this is detrimental to your mental health. Please read through the warning again before reading this and sending me a review stating my ignorance of something that has affected not only me but people I love. Thank you.**

Hermione couldn't breathe. The air was stuck in her lungs like glue, the pain radiating through her neck and her arm causing white spots in her vision and as Bellatrix held the knife to her neck the fight left her, her stores of adrenaline depleted as she let herself let go. It was over. _Go_ she had told the boys. _Run_ , she had screamed. And that's what they had done. While they ran through the thick mass of trees however, she had turned, running full hilt at the snatchers. She held them off, sending a shower of spells into their midst until she was sure they weren't going to get them, that they were safe; before she lowered her wand arm and let them grab her.

"Wus yer name?" the man had asked as he held her by the hair.

She had thought, her mind reeling until she said the only thing she could, "Hermione Granger."

The pain intensified as Bellatrix pushed the knife even further still, "I said where is he?" she shrieked, her voice shrill and unyielding but this time it wasn't the press of the knife that gave Hermione pause.

Because suddenly, every time someone had said their life had flashed before their eyes made sense as everything she had ever done wrong, every accomplishment she had, seemed to bloom forth in her mind like a fleeting rose and then it was gone.

She laughed, only once, before she coughed out the air from her lungs, spittle of red blood flying across the witches face as she answered through gritted teeth, " _Go to Hell._ "

The witch on top of her screamed, rearing her arm back as her fist connected with Hermione's face and everything went black.

* * *

When next she woke she wasn't even sure if she was awake. Her eyes were so swollen shut she could hardly make out her surroundings.

"Do you think she'll tell you anything?" a voice asked and it sounded familiar. Hermione tried to turn her head but the pain overwhelmed her and the rush of vomit up her throat gave her pause.

"I don't know," the voice drawled, "But the Dark Lord commands and the Dark Lord receives."

This voice was familiar and Hermione wanted to vomit without even moving as the shadow moved into her line of sight.

Lucius Malfoy tutted, reaching out with probing fingers to brush her lips, "What a shame. Now you're outsides match your insides."

She tried to move, to swear at him, but realized- too late- that someone had restrained her and she watched as the man before her leaned over, pulling down her pants too roughly. She could feel, although she couldn't see it all as he moved atop her. He leaned down, his pointy face near hers, "Let's give them a good show yes Granger? You tell me where Potter is, what he's doing, and I'll end this."

She swallowed, tasting the tang of bile in her throat and blood on her tongue.

He waited, voices murmuring in the background, before he finally leaned down once again, "Pity."

And with that he shoved into her.

She bit back a scream as he entered her roughly, unwilling to give him the satisfaction. His hands were on her then, his fingernails digging tightly into her breast, his fingers around her throat and he smiled down at her as she laid there, watching him silently through swollen eyelids until he cried out, emptying inside of her.

He came back again later, though Hermione guessed it was the next day and this time his spectators were louder as someone again pinned her to the bed. He asked her again, this time twice, and when she refused he pried open her mouth and shoved himself inside until she gagged. He pulled out only to shove it back in until he forcefully came down her throat and she vomited on herself and, unable to move to clean herself up the sick dried in her hair.

She spent the times that he wasn't there trying to remember the sound of Harry's laugh or the feel of Ron's breath on her cheek. She hoped, Godric she hoped, that they had made it; that they had figured out how to find the rest. That this would be over soon.

Lucius grew impatient, his visits increasing in frequency. He often would come up with new ways to force himself upon her and would grow irate when she, in turn, refused to speak. That's when he began hitting her harder and sometimes she wasn't sure which was worse.

She held steadfast, ignoring his touch and the crack of bones as he pummeled her in one way or another, until the fateful day.

Lucius had been particularly unkind in his advances and she could feel the hot trail of blood and semen between her legs. The footsteps of their audience had retreated as Lucius demanded privacy to clean himself up, a luxury he didn't afford to her, but this time he did something different.

He turned, grabbing the rag that he had used on himself and leaning down to place it between her legs and gently wipe the mess between them.

"The Dark Lord is growing impatient I'm afraid," he said quietly, his hands working where Hermione couldn't see and her body tensed at the contact. "You're stronger than he gives you credit for a lesser witch would have broken long ago. But that's the rub isn't it? Because you're not a witch, not really. You're a mudblood and this is as much a punishment for me as it is for you. You'll have days, if my estimation is correct, before he decides you aren't worth the trouble anymore."

Hermione clenched her jaw, biting hard on the end of her tongue and ignoring the blood that filled her mouth as she stared up at the man.

"And really, you aren't. You've given us nothing and no matter what we'll have to dispose of you. A shame really," he tutted as he stood up and turned around to leave, tossing the rag on the floor somewhere before he looked over his shoulder, "but you're ruined now. Just as much as any of us. Even your precious Weasley won't want you now so I guess it's a favor really."

And with that he was gone.

And she cried.

Because he was right.

* * *

"Draco-" the voice was harsh in the darkness and he groaned as he threw his arm over his head. " _Draco._ "

"What mother?" he sighed, exasperatedly.

"Draco you must come with me," she said and Draco sat up, looking at her then, at the expression that marred her features.

"Mother, what-"

"No, there's no time. Get up," she commanded and Draco did as she said, sliding easily from his bed. She tossed a shirt and pants at him and he easily slid them on before he grabbed his wand from the night table and put it in his pocket, following his mother into the hallway.

They walked in the dark, their footsteps muffled on the stone floors and Draco had to work hard to keep up with his mother. She stopped him only once, pushing him back and against the wall as a patrol crossed by. He frowned down at where she held his wrist, her fingers trembling against his skin until the death eaters passed by.

"Quickly," she said, tugging him along with shaking hands until they reached the dungeon doors.

Draco watched in confusion as she pulled her wand and murmured under her breath as Draco heard a thump from behind the door. She let go of him to open the heavy wooden door and he saw the man lying lifeless at the bottom of the steps. She nodded once and held the door open for her son, allowing him to pass.

Together they walked down the steps until they came to the bottom and Draco glanced around. The cells were empty, the smell however was ever present and his stomach rolled in protest, his nose wrinkling in disgust.

"Come," his mother commanded, stepping over the man on the floor without so much as a second glance.

They walked down the hall until they came to the last cell and Draco felt his mouth gape as he looked at the body lying on the cot.

She looked so different than how she had mere days before. Her hair was matted, her eyes swollen shut and blood was trickling from the corner of her mouth.

"Here, now," his mother said as she opened the door to the cell and gestured inside.

Draco stepped carefully towards the cot, noting the rise and fall of the woman's chest.

"We have to go Drake," his mother said suddenly, her whisper harsh in the dark and Draco turned to look at her in surprise, "Help me get her up."

"Mother- what-"

"Hush, help me," she snapped as she leaned down to pull one of Granger's arms into her hands and gave a tug.

Draco waited only half a beat before he reached for Granger's other arm, mimicking his mother's actions until the witch was pulled into their grasp.

"Mother- what are you doing?" Draco asked.

Narcissa steadied the witch in her arms for a moment before she sighed, "The Dark Lord cannot win Draco, she needs to survive so that Potter can end this-"

"I don't-"

"They're going to kill her. In a few hours, at sunrise. More importantly they're going to make _you_ kill her Drake. Here, hold her."

Draco grudgingly let his mother slip out from under the witch's arm and he bore the brunt of her unconscious weight, wobbling slightly on his feet. His mother dug reached into her pocket, pulling out an inconspicuous hair comb.

He watched as the thing began to glow in her hand and quickly she thrust it into his hand, "I'm so sorry my love," she said quietly. "Hold on tight."

And before he could say another word he felt the tug of the port key just as his mother grabbed his wand from his pocket.

As he was tugged away, Hermione Granger dead weight in his arm, he saw his mother nod once and then, they were gone.

* * *

It was cold and dark when they landed, hard, on a wooden floor.

Draco swore loudly, punching the floor beneath him as he stood to see the inoffensive hair comb on the floor and without a second thought he smashed it beneath his boot.

He couldn't see anything else, the room around him black and he fumbled for his wand only to remember it wasn't there. Swearing again he tried to remember what he knew of muggle lighting and fumbled his way around the walls until he felt the edges of the hearth.

His hands continued on until he found the stack of wood and he could have groaned in relief until he remembered he had no wand with which to start a fire and the dread came rushing back. He braced himself against the wall, sliding down it as he swore everything he could while his breath fogged the air around him.

Time ticked by, a clock somewhere begging him to remember until the faintest of lights began to shine through a crack in the tapestry on the window. He moved to push them back, finally revealing the room around them with the first morning light.

His eyes scanned the room, taking in the dusty surroundings as something tugged on the recesses of his memories. Something he should have remembered but couldn't quite grasp. There was firewood beside the large hearth and a rickety sofa in front of it. The large picture window he now stood in front of was framed by two wingback chairs and a table was on the other side of the room with two spindly chairs. It was unkempt and dirty and- and familiar.

Draco shook his head and moved away from the window, noting Granger lying prone on the floor. He sighed as he moved closer and realized she was still breathing. Leaving her for a moment he ventured down the hallway to see a small bedroom with a large bed and another- smaller- fire place and a lavatory.

He returned to Granger after a moment and kneeled beside her, reaching out to touch her shoulder. "Granger-" he said, poking her once. She didn't move or respond and he tried once more, a little louder and a little harder only to be met with the same results.

He thought of leaving her there. Of walking out through the front door and finding a way back to the manor. The thought was fleeting however as he remembered his mother's face. He glanced back at the witch lying on the floor beneath him.

"What happened to you Granger?" he asked quietly and without thinking about it his hand reached out to brush a piece of hair from her face only to find it matted to her forehead.

He cringed and pulled his hand away. Of course he had known of the horrors of the dungeon. Of those who dared to defy the Dark Lord. Of course he had known what future awaited him if he had failed another mission but to see it now, to see the change of the bloody swot before him. He swallowed roughly and leaned back on his haunches wondering just what it was that made his mother want to risk both of their lives to save her.

Finally he swore as he reached out to slip one arm under her knees and another under her shoulders and pulled her from the floor. He made his way down the hallway on unsteady feet until he reached the bedroom and he placed her upon the top of the bed, cringing at the dust that seemed to erupt as her weight hit the creaky mattress.

He tried the lavatory then, sighing in relief as the water streamed from the tap and after a while the brown tint even began to dissipate. He found a cloth in the little closet behind the door and put it under running water, wringing it out and moving back to the bed.

He wasn't sure why he was doing it as he gently washed the blood away from the woman's mouth and nose. He thought, as he started in on the rest of her face and the hair that was stuck to it in various places, of leaving once again.

The scenarios ran through his mind, of the snatchers that so often came to the manor looking for a quick galleon, of the cries from the dungeons of those the Dark Lord considered traitors, and of his mother's face and the quick urgency with which she spoke and he dispelled those thoughts.

Once Granger looked less bloody he sat back and stared at her face- relaxed in her state of unconsciousness and then… he waited.

* * *

The cabinets had been stocked, he realized later and he wondered how much of this had been a plan from the beginning.

He ached to talk to his mother but without his wand he was helpless to do so.

The minutes turned to hours and the hours into days and Draco did little more than read and tend to Granger.

The swelling in her face went down, though the bruises left behind were just as frightening. Even more frightening, however, were the violent nightmares that seemed to overtake her on occasion. He often woke from where he slept on the couch as she began screaming in pain and though he could do little to help he realized that if he sat beside her and talked to her she calmed. He told himself it was the noise of her screaming that bothered him but as he pulled a book off to read to her- yet again, he realized that he enjoyed the solace that he found in the words of the printed muggle literature.

There was no magic so he ate what he could open himself and eat without heating. He tried to work the stove in the kitchen on one of the first days with near disastrous results and as such he hadn't touched it again. The box in the corner of the room that hummed during the day and night kept things cold and some things icy and he used the juice from inside the bottom portion to dribble into Granger's mouth hoping that it- along with the water he got from the sink in the bathroom- would be enough to keep her alive.

It was on the tenth day that things began to change. Granger woke thrashing in the night but even Draco's reading could not soothe her and it wasn't until he reached out to grasp her wrist that he realized she was burning with fever. He cursed- a lot- and rummaged through the stacks of books that he had found in the shelves that lined one wall of the small cabin until he found one that told him little about illness. He wet a washcloth with cold water from the tap and placed it on her head and used the ice from inside the box in the kitchen to melt upon her overheated lips and tongue.

The eleventh day was much the same and Draco thought once again of simply leaving before he continued on with the routine of cool rags and ice.

During the night he fell asleep, his head resting upon his hand and his neck aching in protest and that morning he heard it; the small, soft gasp of air and the sharp squeak that followed it.

He opened his eyes then, his body sore and angry to find Granger sitting up in bed, her mouth open slightly as her deep chocolate brown eyes stared at him in absolute horror.

* * *

She was ready to die.

Her body hurt everywhere and she knew that one more torture and she just might break, might slip up; might say something she shouldn't. So the thought that her time was near brought a sort of relief to her and when she fell into a fitful sleep that night she dreamt of hands around her, of soft hands on her forehead and whispered words into the dark of the night.

She thought of Harry and his emerald green eyes, of his laugh and the way he would often push his glasses up his nose when he was concentrating on something. She thought of freckles and red hair and soft woolen sweaters. She was content.

Until she wasn't.

Bellatrix was there, her hands rough and probing the ache in her head becoming more prominent and then Lucius and his hands and his fists and his fingers and she wished once more for the sleep to overtake her.

And then she dreamt of her mother. Of the times she was sick and her mother would always smooth her hair back from her face. And of her father, and his voice as he would tuck her safely into her bed and read from her favorite books.

She missed them.

She missed them all.

But then, then she was coming back to the surface and she wasn't dead.

She wasn't dead at all.

And she wasn't alone.

* * *

Draco breathed a sigh of relief as he moved in the chair and stood to lean over and brush his hand against her forehead.

She moved then, so fast that even Draco's head spun as she backed away from him, pulling her legs to her chest as she stared at him with those wide brown eyes.

"You were ill," he explained, "I need to see if your fever has broken."

"I'm fine." She bit out, her words biting and harsh on her thick voice and he nodded.

"I'll get you a glass of water."

He moved then, feeling her eyes on his back as he left the room and headed to the kitchen. He pulled a glass from one of the cupboards and turned back to the tap, filling it near to the brim with the liquid only to turn and slosh it down his front when he saw her standing behind him, her eyes still wide.

"Where are we? Why am I here?" she demanded.

Draco paused, shaking the water off of one hand before he set the glass down before her, "Drink first." She hesitated. "I know you watched me fill it up and besides I don't have my wand if you want to kill me go ahead there are some knives in the top drawer."

With that he set the water down and took a step back. Still watching him she stepped forward and picked up the less full glass and put it to her lips drinking in long, greedy pulls until it was gone.

"More?" he asked as she set the empty glass down.

She nodded once and he grabbed it off the counter before he turned back to the tap, filling the glass once more.

"I don't know and my mother sent us," he said as he set the glass down on the counter once again.

Granger picked it up, emptying it slower this time as she eyed him speculatively. "You don't know?"

"No."

"Your mother sent us?"

"Yes."

She was silent, watching him carefully and he tried not to flinch under the accusation of her gaze until she finally stepped away from him.

He watched as she took in their haven, her back never turning on him, before she finally met his gaze once more.

"Can we leave?"

Draco shrugged, "I don't know."

"Have you tried?"

"Where would I go?"

She looked at him again and he raised a brow. "Home?"

"The Dark Lord would kill me upon sight, I'm sure of it."

"Why?"

"Because I was supposed to kill you." He explained and he saw her flinch slightly at his words, "The morning we came here I was to kill you. My mother sent me here instead."

"So your mother could be-"

"Don't." he said warningly, his heart clenching in his chest as he thought of his mother.

Hermione nodded. "My parents could be dead," she added flatly.

Draco stared at her for a moment before he shook his head and took a step. She flinched then, backing up until she ran into the small table behind her and Draco looked at her. "I'm going into the living room."

She nodded and he passed by, feeling her eyes on him the entire way until he sat on the couch and pulled the book from the coffee table picking up where he left off.

* * *

They existed together for the most part. Two ships passing in the night.

She watched his every movement while she was awake and Draco wondered why she felt he was a threat. It was he, after all, who brought her back from the brink of death.

He was angry that she treated him like such but he continued on. It wasn't until the last package of jaffa cakes had been emptied that he attempted to open anything in the cupboards. His hands shook as he held a tin can with one and a knife with the other and when the blade slipped, slicing through the skin of his finger he let out a sharp curse, tossing the can onto the floor.

"What are you doing?" she asked and he turned to look at her, his jaw clenched.

"What does it look like?" he snapped as he bent down to pick the can up once more and grabbed the knife again.

"Stop, stop," she said quickly as he started on his task once more. "You're doing it wrong."

Draco sneered, "Well unless you have a better idea on how to keep us fed-"

Granger eyed him for a moment before she stepped forward. He half expected her to take the can from him. Instead she reached out and pulled one of the drawers. She rummaged around for a moment before she shook her head and closed it, moving to the next one. It was on the third one that she pulled out the strange looking tool with a metal head and two round wheels. "It's a can opener."

She did take the can then and easily put the wheels on the can and turned a handle on the back, spinning the can around. She set it down and pulled the top off, setting it down on the counter.

Draco leered, "Any other helpful tools you want to share?"

"Why are you doing this?" she asked instead.

Draco paused, "What?"

"Feeding me. Keeping me alive. Why are you doing this?" she asked again.

"I don't know," he answered honestly. Because he didn't. Not really. His mother was probably dead by now, having betrayed the Dark Lord. His father was in far too deep and his aunt, well there was no hope for that witch. He should have been running. Instead he was feeding the best friend of his sworn enemy and making sure she drank enough. He repeated as he turned to look at her, "I don't know."

She eyed him for a moment before she nodded, "I'll leave as soon as I'm well enough."

Before he could answer she had left.

He knew she wasn't well. He'd known it for a while. Her hands still shook as she ate or drank and she moved too slowly as though she was walking through mud. Sometimes he walked into a room to find her gripping her head tightly as though wracked by some invisible force. He didn't know how long it would take her to heal but he knew it wouldn't be soon enough. The less time he spent with Hermione Granger, he decided, the better.

* * *

Her head ached. Her hands shook. Her knees quaked. And sometimes, when all was quiet it was as though Bellatrix was still there, towering over her as she writhed in pain and pissed herself.

Oddly enough, it wasn't Bellatrix that she dreamt of.

In her dreams it was of hands that squeezed and choked and fingers in places they shouldn't have been. Of pain between her legs and a sneer looming above her.

She always woke then, out of breath with a scream stuck in her throat. At first it was hard, separating the man in her nightmares from his son in the cabin. They moved the same, spoke with the same haughty tone, but he was different too.

She saw it when he spoke of his mother, or when he thought she wasn't watching. When the facade falls away and he relaxed she knew that they were not the same person. Not even close.

She still wouldn't let him close to her. She knew they weren't the same but the idea of him touching her;Of anyone touching her- sends a panic through her that causes her chest to tighten uncomfortably.

And sometimes when she woke from a nightmare, he was there. His voice soft and quiet and she pretended to sleep on; she listened to his voice. It's those nights she slept the best.

* * *

They'd been together for three weeks when she came into the living room and sat down opposite him. He looked up from his book to see her staring at him.

"What?" he asked.

"Let's play-" she said and it was then he realized she was holding a box.

He studied her for a moment before he shook his head, "I don't know how-"

"Well, I'll teach you."

Part of him wanted to tell her to go away.

The other part reached over to clear the small table in front of him and watched as she set up the board.

It was the most she'd spoken to him since they arrived. He picked up the game fast, it was just like wizard's chess after all, but he kept his lips closed as she continued to explain.

He wasn't sure why.

They kept track of their wins on a spare bit of parchment that she found in a drawer with something she assured him was just like a self-inking quill. He'd won twice as many games as she had when she brought out another game and explained it to him. It was not at all like wizard's chess and though she bested him nearly every time, taking his little round pieces, he didn't ask to stop playing.

He still wasn't sure why.

She still wasn't comfortable with him. He saw it when she stiffened as he walked into a room and then slowly moved away. As though she was scared that one small move may set him off.

She didn't touch him, nor did he try to touch her, and in the quiet of the house when he spoke she startled as though she had forgotten he was ever there.

They found an old piano in the living room, it was badly in need of a tune and the sheet that covered it was stacked in books that were covered in a thick layer of dust. It was here that he found her one morning, her fingers plucking at the keys gently and listening to the sounds that escaped as they did. He watched her for a moment, her eyes closed tightly as she strained to listen, before he spoke.

"Do you play?"

She jumped, startled and he expected her to run as she did so often. He waited, counting the seconds, before she finally relaxed slightly, her head nodding. "I did."

He watched her for a few minutes longer before he moved, slowly, to the other side of the bench, sitting down beside her as his own fingers reached out to pluck at the keys. Slowly they played together, the sound horribly off key and grinding on their ears, but they played.

"My mother made me learn," she finally admitted after they had finished a terrible rendition of a Chopin duet.

Draco laughed, "Maybe we aren't so different then after all."

 **A/N: I'm looking at maybe only 4 chapters. I have been so, _so_ hesitant to post this so please be kind. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other recognizable work**.

 **A/N: I was really blown away with the (mostly) positive support for last chapter and wanted to go ahead and get this next one out to you all! Also, I'm watching** **the Flash. _Loving_ Tom Felton's character. Anyone else?**

She misses Harry and Ron.

She misses them terribly.

And she's scared of how easy it has become to be around Draco Malfoy. They explore the little cottage, removing sheets and cleaning the dust and debris that has settled. They find a little door that leads to a small cellar, hidden in a small door along the wall.

They've guessed that their safe haven is probably under a fidelius charm but they have no idea how to be sure. Neither of them know where they are and they are scared if they step outside they will not be able to find their way back.

It's for this reason they sit, side by side, in the little window seat in the kitchen that overlooks a back garden. Today Hermione is reading aloud from one of the books on the shelf. A book about frivolous parties and lost love and she feels at ease with the man who sits beside her, his face turned up to the sun that shines in through the dusty window.

She pauses mid sentence to look at him, relaxed in the sunshine, and she realizes that he's not his father. Not at all.

And for once, she closes her eyes too, enjoying the sun on her face along with him.

* * *

They are, for all intents and purposes, prisoners in the cabin.

They do not wish to stay but to leave may mean certain death.

They stay.

Draco wonders over his mother, he yearns to speak with her, to see her. He knows it is fruitless. His hands hum with unspent magic and he knows Hermione's do as well. They try, sometimes, to summon things wandlessly. So far Hermione has managed once, and he has yet to manage at all. He tries not to be bitter about it.

He knows that she has gotten better. Her hands no longer shake and her headaches have become few and far between in the weeks they've been isolated. Draco wonders when she will decide to leave and he wonders if he will last long without her.

She teaches him how to use the stove and how to use the stove to light the fires in the fireplaces that heat the cabin at night. The temperature in the cabin has begun to warm up and though they keep track of the time they are there he isn't sure the exact date.

It has been seven weeks since they arrived. Draco is sleeping on the couch when he hears Hermione cry out. He moves, as he usually does, to go to the room to read to her except she isn't in bed.

"Hermione?" he calls out.

She answers in turn by retching into the loo.

He goes back to the kitchen and gets a glass of water from the pitcher in the refrigerator and takes it back to her.

"Thank you," she chokes out as she takes the glass with shaking hands.

"It gets better," he shrugs, "After a while you won't feel it anymore."

She frowns, "How do you know?"

He breathes, "What other curse would keep your followers in line without decimating them?" he says it harsher than he intended and he sees her flinch slightly, "I failed my task, he punished me.

"Draco-"

"One time, my father failed and he decided to punish me. My mother stepped in to that one for me," he says thickly, though he has no idea why he's telling her. "It took a while but she stopped shaking eventually."

Hermione nods and takes another sip of water. "Do you still want to follow him?" she asks suddenly.

Draco stares at her, his eyes searching before he finally admits, "I don't know."

He tells himself he doesn't know why the disappointed look on her face bothers him so much.

She gets sick again the next day and the day after. It's the fifth day, her shoulders hunching as she heaves into the toilet bowl and despite it all he goes into the lavatory to hold her hair away from her face.

"I'll get you a glass of water," he says after she has finished emptying the contents of her stomach and she nods as he leaves the room.

He comes back only to find her curled up on the bed, her knees to her chest, and he sighs as he sets the water down on the side table and pulls the covers from under her before he lays them gently on top of her, letting her sleep it off.

He worries as he sits down in the chair before the fireplace with the book of illness that had helped him before, thumbing through the pages on vomiting.

"Draco," he looks up at the voice, only to find his mother's head in the fireplace and relief floods him. "Oh my sweet boy."

"Mother-"

"There isn't much time," she says quickly, cutting him off. "This won't be untraceable for long. I had to sneak away, I had to make sure-"

"Mother where-"

"Is she alive?" she asks instead.

"Yes, but-"

"Good, listen carefully. You're in a cabin protected by a fidelius charm," she explained.

"We've gathered that much, but we don't even know where it is. Where we are-"

"It's better that way," she said lowly.

"Who is the secret keeper?" he asked.

His mother shook his head, "You needn't concern yourself with that Draco. It was my hopes that I could get us both there but they were going to kill her Draco they were going to make you do it."

"Mother, I don't-"

"The house is safe Draco, stay inside and you'll be proctected-"

"Mother-"

"I have to go, someone is coming. I Love you my sweet boy."

Before he can ask her anything else she is gone.

He swears as he stands up, kicking at the stack of books on the floor and reaching up to tug on his hair. Before he can think better of it he lashes out, his fist connecting with the fireplace as he let out a loud oath.

"What did the fireplace ever do to you?" he turns then to see Hermione standing in the room, her face too pale before she runs into the kitchen and retches into the sink.

He sighs as he moves into the kitchen behind her and pulls her hair out of her face until she finishes. She pushes away from the sink and he lets her go, watching as she slides down against the other counters, her face pale and her eyes wide. He grabs a glass from the cabinet, running water in the sink to wash away the evidence of her sick, before he fills up the glass and hands it to her.

He watches as she takes a shaky sip, her eyes not meeting his as he leans on the counter opposite her.

"We're under the fidelius charm but maybe a doctor-"

"I don't need a doctor-" she says lowly.

"You're ill, I can't- I'm not a healer, I don't know what kind of things cause this-"

"Draco, I don't need a healer, I know what's wrong with me."

"Then what is it?"

She's silent, her head bent, and for a moment he thinks she's ignoring him until he sees her shoulder shaking and finally she looks up, her eyes red and her nose running as she speaks, "I'm pregnant."

* * *

She thinks she had known for a while.

She tried to ignore it, the fact that her courses hadn't come could be explained away by a lot of things. But her breasts were tender and her back ached. She found the book one day while Draco was napping on the couch and she took it into the lavatory, reading it with still shaking hands.

And she told herself she was wrong.

She didn't have the symptoms.

Not all of them.

Until she did.

* * *

He bristles at her words. Something striking deep within him that he isn't sure belongs there. He shakes his head, "The Weasel will be very happy I'm sure."

The words are bitter on his tongue.

She shakes her curls, her head dipping down once again, "It's not Ronalds."

Malfoy feels his stomach scrunch in disgust, "Potter?"

Hermione takes a deep breath, punctuated by another sob, "No."

He frowns, because who else could there be. Of course there were other people at Hogwarts who noticed her, he was sure. The Longbottom boy followed every girl around as though they would take pity on him. But no, she hadn't been around them. This was still very new. It had to have been right before… he stops, his breath catching in his throat as he thinks back to her reactions to him. To her nightmares.

"Who?" he asks lowly.

"Draco-" she starts, her voice thick with tears.

He growls, " _Who_ "

Finally, her brown eyes lift to his, and she says the only word that will break him. "Lucius."

* * *

She watches as he storms away and she cries out to him as he doesn't even stop, walking straight out the back door.

Her heart clenches. She wants to chase after him, she doesn't want to be alone here, alone and afraid and- her heart breaks- pregnant.

She doesn't move.

Instead she cries, letting her tears fall in torrents down her cheeks as she tries to think and comes up short. She's never had the trouble before and it troubles her. Her eyes grow raw and heavy and she leans her head back against the cabinet, letting herself succumb to the sleep she so desperately needs.

* * *

He wants his wand.

He doesn't know what he wants to do but he needs his wand. He doesn't even think as he marches out of the back door and into the walled back garden. He has known, most of his life, the kind of man his father is. But he had also known the father that played with him and rode brooms with him. That taught him how to read and how to command a room. He knew his father had a temper but he had never known, never thought- he choked.

His mother. Her heart would be broken.

Hermione.

His heart broke for her. Her sidelong glances, her night terrors, the way she jumped whenever she saw him out of the corner of her eye, it made sense to him now but mostly it made him angry.

Hermione.

He realized then that he had walked out, he looked up, terrified, only to feel the instant relief as he saw the little cottage sitting in front of him. Something tugged at his memory again but he shook it off and walked back to the cottage and in through the door.

He saw her, her head back against the cabinet, her brow furrowed in sleep, and he didn't hesitate as he moved toward her and picked her up, carrying her to her room.

He didn't sleep that night, his eyes heavy as he stared into the fire, willing his mother back. Willing her to appear and make it everything alright. But he knew. Nothing would ever be alright again.

Hermione woke before the sun the next day and stomped into the living room, her face red and her eyes shining.

"You stupid, bloody git," she yelled and he jumped as he saw her.

"What?"

"You- you left!" she cried, "You have no wand, no bloody magic and you just left. What if you would have walked past the fidelius charm, what if you had just wandered off and gotten caught. I would have been alone Draco-"

"You don't think I know that? I came back didn't I?" he yelled back, rising to his feet. "In case you don't remember I didn't ask for this. I didn't want to be stuck here with you."

"I didn't either!" she argued.

"Would you have rather I just let you die? Rather I just killed you myself?"

"I don't know but I imagine it would be better than this!" she startled at her words, her eyes wide. "I didn't ask for this Draco. I didn't ask for your father to rape me."

"I didn't ask for him to be my father," he roared and then he stopped, shaking his head. "I didn't ask for him to be my father. I didn't ask for that- that monster to be my father."

Hermione's features softened then and Draco didn't even stop himself as he fell to his knees. "I am- I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

He didn't know who he was talking to as Hermione came to his side and wrapped him in her arms. He just knew that he'd never been more afraid, more angry, more sorry in his entire life.

Hermione's arms tightened around him, her lips near his ear whispering words he didn't really hear until his own eyes drifted close and he fell fast asleep.

* * *

When he woke next Hermione was gone.

His heart raced inside his chest as he pulled his tired and aching body to his feet and searched the rooms. He was just about to go looking outside for her when the back door opened and she walked in, a bowl in her hands and a little smile on her face. "I found some berries in the back yard. There's a few trees out there too, I think they're some kind of fruit. Are you alright?"

"I thought you had left," he said.

Hermione breathed, setting down the bowl of berries and turning to look at him. "I don't have any magic and no way to contact Harry and now...well, I don't- I don't think I can go anywhere."

He nodded, "Are you...do you want me to leave?"

"No!" she said quickly, "I don't."

He nodded once, "I don't have any words to say to you except that I'm sorry. I'm sorry that this happened to you at all, I'm sorry that I was such a prat to you in school. I'm sorry that I really have no idea what to do now."

Hermione shrugged, "I forgive you."

"What?"

"I forgive you," she repeated again as she turned to pick up the bowl of berries and washed them off.

"How can you- why?"

She paused, turning to look at him, "'those who don't have the power to forgive don't have the power to love' she said seriously. "I don't want to be like him Draco."

He breathed, "You asked me before if I still want to follow him? The answer is no. It has been for a while."

The corner of her lips quirked up a bit at that and she nodded, "I know Draco. I've just been waiting on you to see it."

* * *

"What are you going to do about that?" he asked her over their dinner of tuna and noodles with blueberry crumble for dessert. He gestured to her abdomen.

She steadied herself, "There isn't much I can do is there?"

Still, as she laid alone in the dark she let herself think. She let herself cry. She tried to recall Ron's laugh, or the feeling of Harry's arm slung round her shoulders, but came up short. She didn't know what options she had right now but she knew she couldn't give up.

Not yet.

She had to keep it together. For them.

She wondered if they'd accomplished what they set out to do. She wondered if her sacrifice was worth it. She hoped that Harry had swallowed his pride and asked for help. She knew the order would help, that they _could_ help but she also knew Harry. The thought of what could happen scared her more than she would like to admit.

She also uses the time to try _not_ to think. She recalled stories of her childhood and her parents and it's for this reason that she found herself telling Draco one particular story about the time she was eight and _accidentally_ turned her teacher's hair blue because the woman was a menace. He in turn told her of the time Theodore Nott called him a name and he gave him a toucan's beak. They laughed together as they recalled stories of Hogwarts, of simpler times, of better times.

Her sickness waned as the days stretched on but the clothes they'd found in the house start to fit more snug round her middle and she had to ward off the panic attacks that it brought daily. Being outside in the garden helped and the little shed that sat outside held a wealth of treasures. It was here Hermione found a box of seeds and she got to work planting them in neat and orderly rows.

Draco stayed inside and while he said nothing when she returned, she knew he was giving her the time alone. She tried not to think about how much it meant to her. How much he has started to mean to her.

She taught him how to cook the muggle way, laughing at his attempts and the fact that sugar and salt really _do_ look too much alike and collapsing onto the floor of the kitchen as both of them tried to quell their laughter, their sides aching from the effort.

Their magic pulsed often and both of them worked, and finally succeeded, at summoning things from other rooms without their wands. It was exhausting and draining without their wands but once they accomplished it they begin to excel at it. They moved on then, trying to do other spells here or there. Some failed and others succeeded and they reveled in the latter.

Her pregnancy progressed, her stomach stretching and she borrowed the clothes Draco wore as she tried to conceal her stomach. She still wasn't used to it but the panic soon began to fade and she no longer cried herself to sleep. She can tell Draco still wasn't used to it and she would sometimes find him staring at her growing midsection with a look of contempt on his face but for the most part he kept it hidden. She was grateful for that kindness. No matter how small.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Same as before. I do not own Harry Potter or any other recognizable work.**

 **A/N: Speaking of which, I've hidden a couple of my favorite "muggle" books in this story by their descriptions. Would love to see if you can find them! I seem to have lost some of my reviewers last chapter. I'm not one to beg for reviews but I really _do_ want to know what you think so please, even if you don't like it drop me a line to tell me what you're thinking. What I can improve upon. Also, I wrote this story and it was pretty draining. I know my tenses were wonky last chapter, I'm going to go back and fix them soon! Sorry about that! Love you all!**

"I don't think I can do this" he said quietly, looking at her from where she stood on the other side of the room.

"Of course you can."

"No- something else but-"

"You're getting worked up. I would do this but I'm not sure it's safe for the baby-" she ignored the flinch at the reminder of the life growing inside of her. It had taken weeks but she had come to accept it for what it was, he on the other hand- "Trust me Draco, you can do it."

He narrowed his eyes at her.

"Fine," she said , "I'll do it, stay there."

"No!" he said loudly and forcefully. "I'm doing it."

He closed his eyes and breathed, clearing his mind and letting the bad thoughts flee from his mind. For one brief moment he was floating and then, then with a pop he wasn't.

He opened one eye, and then the other to find him toe to toe with a beaming Hermione Granger.

"I did it," he breathed.

"You did it!" she laughed.

He wrapped his arms around her and swung her around before setting her back on her feet.

He didn't think, he only did, as he looked down at her. Her eyes met his and then his lips were on hers.

She stiffened beneath his kiss and he pulled back, "I shouldn't have done that. I'm so-"

She silenced him with her own kiss, her lips pressed to his and the months of frustration and tension melted under his touch. His fingers were in her hair and he was pulling her closer still as his tongue probed for entrance at her mouth.

He knew he should stop but as her fingers worked at the buckle of his belt he couldn't make himself pull away. Still, he's gentle as he pushed his hips against hers, his cock straining against his boxers waiting for her to stop him. To push him away.

"Stop thinking-" she whispered against his neck, her tongue reaching out to lap at the skin there before her teeth nipped the tendon at the junction there.

And he did.

They did.

Soon they were on the floor, their clothes discarded and he hovered above her, poised to enter her. It was the first time he'd looked at her- truly looked at her- and he was breathless and helpless.

"Hermione-" he said quietly, asking.

She answered in kind by pushing her hips up, accepting him inside of her and he was lost.

* * *

She woke in the early hours of the morning completely ensconced in warmth. She turned her head to see Draco behind her, spooning her, his hand splayed open upon her swollen and naked abdomen. It was the first time he'd acknowledged her pregnancy, her growing body.

He looked uncomfortable, his body angled so as to keep her from the hard ground, and she slipped out of his embrace as gently as she could so as not to wake him.

She still wasn't sure what led them to that, what led _her_ to let him touch her; to make love to her. She had thought the panic would consume her, the memory of _his_ hands on her of him _in_ her would set her off. Instead she felt different as her and Draco moved together on the floor of the little cottage. The panic that so often consumed her was gone replaced only by an intense need to _feel_.

She smiled slightly to herself as she used the loo, the reason for her waking in the first place, and stood back up to wash her hands. It was then, in the dim light from the lightbulb above, that she caught sight of herself in the glazed mirror that hung above the sink.

Her heart sank as she took in the dark bags beneath her eyes, the mess of curls atop her head. Her breasts were swollen, resting atop her protruding stomach just as she felt the _thump_ inside her belly. Her breath caught, her hand falling to the swell as she felt her child move inside her for the first time. Her thoughts travelled to the man sleeping in the other room.

The tears fell then, her breath coming in short spurts as she tried to quiet her sobs until she finally ran out of tears to cry.

She didn't go back to Draco after that, crawling into the bed instead.

* * *

The change in Hermione was immediate. He woke up that morning, an ache in his neck and his left side cold only to find her missing from his side. It took him only moments to find her, sitting in her garden outside, pulling the weeds from the plants she so carefully tended.

He watched from a distance, knowing how much she valued her alone time in her garden. She didn't come in for a long while however and when she did she was distant, her words to him clipped and short. He felt the weight settle in his gut as she told him she was tired after finishing her dinner, and retired to bed well before the sun had set.

The next day fared much the same but as she stood from the table, he reached out, grasping her hand.

"Hermione," he said softly and when she refused to meet his eye he stood, using his thumb to lift her chin. "What happened- I shouldn't have- I don't regret it but I shouldn't have, after everything-"

She shook her head, "No, you're- that's not-" she stopped, taking a deep breath, "I don't regret it either. I just- how could you possibly want this?" she gestured to herself. "I'm pregnant… with your- your sibling and I still can't sleep through the night without seeing him. I'm- I'm broken Draco."

He felt his heart constrict at her words as he let go of her chin only to cup her cheek with his palm. He wanted to tell her all the reason's she's wrong. Wanted to discount all the reasons she thinks she isn't good enough but despite it all he _knew_ her. So instead he leaned down and pressed his lips firmly to hers.

She was still at first and his heart pounded behind his ears as he waited for her to decide; waited for her to push him away. Instead she reached out, her own hands wrapped around his neck as she pulled him into her and kissed him with all she was worth.

This time was different.

It wasn't careful or soft. It was full of want and need and fire as he cleared the table behind them with wandless magic and rested her arse atop it. He reminded himself to gloat about that bit of magic later as she shimmied out of her pants and he undid the button on his own and then they are joined.

He pumped in and out of her as her nails dug tightly into his hips, pulling him in and closer as though she couldn't get enough. The pain kept him grounded, keeps him from going _too_ fast because despite his want and his yearning he knew she was right about one thing. She was still broken.

But then again, so was he.

* * *

The bed became theirs.

She welcomed him into it and they spend a lot of time in between the covers together. Exploring each other both physically and mentally.

She learned that his favorite color isn't green but grey and she told him of her parents and her favorite biscuits that her mum made. Her stomach growled loudly at that one and the baby demands them and they laughed together. Draco read to her stomach, his voice comforting the child within, and when they slept his hands rested protectively atop her stomach.

They made a countdown together, trying to work out when the baby will come as they read the only book they've found with anything on it on childbirth. They've managed to work out what they should do once the time comes and Hermione tried not to dwell on the sheer terror that filled her at something going wrong. It was during these times, her eyes wide in panic, that Draco pulled her against him and kissed her solidly. They lost themselves together then, a tangle of lips and limbs and they forgot.

For just a moment.

* * *

He's fucked, he realized soon enough. He was fucked because he wanted to touch her, he wanted to taste her, the times she wasn't with him were near torture and despite it all she somehow wanted him too.

At some point he had fallen in love with Hermione Granger and Merlin help him he did not give a rat's arse. He just wanted her.

That wasn't to say he wasn't terrified out of his bloody mind.

He was plagued by his own insecurities. As much as she was worried, he was too. but he felt his was even more rightly so. She had done nothing wrong. But him? He blames himself for her pain. He could have done more. He _should_ have done more- and not just for her but for Weasley and Potter as well. The guilt that he didn't say inside him and reared it's ugly head at the most inconvenient times as he thought of what he should have done for them, for _her_. And how can she love him, he wondered. She was carrying the child of her rapist who was also his father. It was then that he _knew_ she didn't return the feelings and it was then that his doubts reached a head.

But something happened. As though she could sense it, Hermione was there, resting her head upon his chest as she read-a book about a sisters, love, and a man too prideful for his own good- or wrapping her arms around his middle as she pressed her forehead to his back. She would kiss his cheek or slip her hand into his and his doubts slowly began to fade. And she was all he could see.

* * *

She no longer felt the pain from the torture she felt months previous, it was a different kind of ache now. She felt it in her back as she worked in the garden and in her feet as she stood at the sink with Draco, laughing as they did dishes the muggle way. She felt it in her heart as she lay listening to Draco read to the baby and she wondered about her best friends, about her parents, about the turmoil that she was sure the world outside of their little bubble was facing.

She felt that ache one day as she worked in the garden and she listened to the wind whisper through the trees. She stopped, pulling off the floral printed glove to swipe at her glistening forehead and looked up at the sky. It looked like rain and for a moment she felt like weeping along with it. Shaking her head she pulled herself to her feet only to feel a sharp tug around her middle.

She gasped and reached down to rub at her back, and let the sensation fade away. She forgot about it quickly, putting away her equipment before she headed inside to find that Draco had made lunch.

"Hungry?" he asked with a smile, a secret little joke between them as her hunger seemed unsatiable as of late.

"Actually… not really."

Draco's brow furrowed and she knew he was worried but he simply nodded and slid the fresh vegetables from her plate onto his and picked up her half of the sandwich as she made her way into the living room and settled on the couch.

She fell asleep quickly, only to wake up after what felt like only minutes to that sharp twang of pain that radiated through her back. Like someone had tied a string to her spine and was tugging it through her belly button. She winced and Draco moved from the other side of the couch where he had been reading.

"Hermione?"

"I'm- it's okay," she said, swinging her legs to the floor as she pulled herself to her feet.

She intended to use the lavatory, she only made it three steps before the liquid trickled down her thighs. She swore as she stood, frozen in the middle of the living room.

"Hermione?"

"I- I think my waters just broke."

* * *

Hermione had planned meticulously. It was early, by their calculations, but Hermione assured him it should be fine as he helped her into the bed that he had lined with towels.

They spend the time between her contractions going over the plan she'd put in place until she was sure that he had it memorized. Her magic pulsed with each contraction, he could feel it in the hair that stood up on the back of his neck. He longed for his wand, for a potion, for anything really, each time she cried out in pain. He sat with her; he held her hand and stroked her hair away from her face and whispered words of encouragement.

"I need to push," she said after hours, the sun long since set. "I can feel it."

"Okay-" he answered quietly and helped her to move her legs.

It was a blur after that, running on adrenaline and fear as he watched her push a living form from within her. He helped her like the book said to do until the baby is on the bed, covered in white cobwebs and sticky red blood.

And silent.

The seconds felt like hours.

"What's happening?" Hermione asked frantically, breathless.

Draco said nothing as his hands rubbed the infant's back, his hands were shaking,and then suddenly- suddenly.

A cry.

He nearly buckled with relief as he wrapped a towel underneath the baby and around it and pulled it into his arms. He knew their work wasn't done but he moved anyway, handing the baby to Hermione.

She cried as he placed the baby into her arms and sat down on the edge of the bed beside her.

"It's a girl," he whispered softly and Hermione sobbed openly as she pulled back the towel to inspect the perfect little bundle in her arms. "She's perfect."

"I love you," she said, her voice loud and strong and clear and it's only after he pulled his eyes away from the baby that he realized she was talking to him.

* * *

She was here and she was perfect.

Despite everything, despite how she came to be, Hermione was in love.

It wasn't hard to see that Draco was as well, as he cradled the baby so carefully in his long arms and handed her gently to her mum. As she held the baby to her, her heart was so full, that she didn't even stop it as she blurted it out.

He smiled as he leaned in and peppered her face with kisses as the baby squirmed between them, and repeats, "I love you too" over and over like a mantra.

After everything was said and done, the afterbirth cleared and the messy portion of childbirth handled, they laid together in bed, the baby between them.

"She's beautiful," Draco said quietly, his finger trailing over her little pink cheek. "What are you going to call her?"

Hermione bit her lip, she had thought of names. Of honoring her mother and father, but nothing had felt right. Nothing felt like it was _hers_.

"I don't- I don't know." she answered honestly.

He nodded but said nothing more as they both looked at the sleeping baby, a peace settling over them that they hadn't felt before.

* * *

"Poppy?" Draco asked from where he sat holding the baby in question.

"No," Hermione shook her head, finishing the sandwiches on the plates and peering out the window.

The flowers are in full bloom now and she smiled to herself as she puts

a few of the vegetables from her garden on their plates before picking them up and carrying them back to the living room.

"I guess you'll just have to be 'Little Love' for the rest of your life then. Your mummy can't decide what you should be called," Draco was saying as the baby started to fuss.

Hermione rolled her eyes and sat the plates down on the table before she plopped herself down beside him and took the baby into her arms and lifted her shirt to feed her daughter.

"Well, in any case," Draco sighed, reaching over to pick up a carrot and holding it out to her, "You'll have to come up with something eventually."

Hermione nodded, taking the proffered bite, "I know but it's a big decision."

And honestly, one she wasn't quite ready for to begin with.

* * *

He could almost forget they were in a war.

As they sat in the garden wrapped in each other's arms, or played a muggle board game together, it was easy to forget that things weren't so simple elsewhere. They were lucky, he supposed, that wherever they were hadn't been afflicted by the fighting yet.

They were lucky.

He reminded himself of this often. He told himself this as he held the baby against his bare chest, humming a tune to keep her quiet so Hermione could sleep a little more. He reminded himself as he made them lunch and listened to Hermione read a book of a magical world and tea parties aloud to both him and the little wonder in her arms. He told himself of their luck time and time again but really, he reminded himself. He didn't deserve her, or her daughter, but for some unknown reason- she wanted him.

He was doing just that as they laid in bed, her head upon his chest. The baby was asleep in the empty drawer they had crudely fashioned into a cradle, her little lips suckling even in her slumber and he smiled, his fingers running through the curls of her mother.

"You okay?" Hermione asked, stopping mid sentence to tilt her head up to look at him.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, I'm fine," he smiled, leaning down to press a kiss against her lips. "Just thinking."

Her brow furrowed, "About what?"

Draco sighed, "If we really have to go back."

He waited for an argument. For her to remind him that Potter needed her help. Instead she shrugged, "It wouldn't be so bad would it? To stay here?"

He smiled and then in one swift motion rolled them so that he was hovering over her, the book long forgotten as he pressed his forehead to hers, "No, it definitely would not."

* * *

He was gentle, his hands ghosting over her ribcage sending shivers down her spine and lighting her flesh on fire. She arched against him, pressing herself to his bare chest and pressing her lips against the skin behind his ear, smiling against him as he moaned.

"Shhh," she whispered laughingly, "You'll wake the baby."

"Mmm, you're right," he muttered, bending to kiss her neck in turn. "Mustn't wake the little love. Guess you'll just have to be quiet."

She laughed, cutting off abruptly as his hips ground into her and she closed her eyes, letting her head fall back against the pillow under her.

They came together as easy as before, his flesh inside her waking something inside her and leaving her yearning for more. She ground up into him, her hands on his hips as she pulled him in deeper until she came undone, biting his shoulder to keep from crying out. He was close behind, pulling out and spilling his seed upon her stomach.

"I didn't think you'd want-"he started to explain.

She hushed him with her finger, "Get a towel?"

"Of course." he said quietly and he moved to the lavatory, grabbing one of the towels on the shelf and using it to softly clean himself from her body.

She was still dressing when the baby cried out, waking from her slumber, and she smiled as she watched Draco move to pick her up, cradling her gently in his hands as he spoke in soft and delicate murmurs. "She needs a new nappy," he said to her after a moment, his nose wrinkled in distaste.

Hermione laughed as she stood up and moved towards the living room. They worked with what they had and it was there that they kept the towels and sheets they had ripped into squares creating some cloth nappies that worked well enough if you could pin them just right.

She was sorting through them, trying to find a smaller one when suddenly the front door opened. She froze, her hands tightening around the fabric in her hands and she turned to see the witch standing behind her.

She barely bit back a scream, her hands shaking as she reached for the wand that wasn't there and then looked, trying to find something- anything- to defend herself with. Her thoughts travelled to the baby, to Draco, and she knew in that moment that she would take a thousand lifetimes of torture from Bellatrix Lestrange than let anything happen to them.

She stepped forward, ready to accept it if only to keep them safe when she noticed the witch wasn't alone.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other recognizable work.**

 **A/N: So a few things.**

 **First, Guest reviewer. I'm not sure that you'll read this but I wanted to let you know that I saw your review for the first chapter and I'm sorry that you were affected. I would like to take this time by saying as someone who has lived through sexual abuse and as the best friends of two survivors, I don't take things like this lightly. It took me ages to post this because I was worried that it might be too hard to read for some. That being said, the warning in the first chapter said: " It will deal with mentions of, rape/non-con, torture, and other tough subjects." (I pulled this directly from the chapter and yes, that comma is there. It was my belief that would indicate those as separate subjects) I have since edited this to say that it will contain _mentions and actions_ of the aforementioned subjects. It is my last wish that anyone be trigged by something that I write but I try to include proper warnings and I'm sorry that I didn't do so _clearly_ enough for you. I have worked hard to remedy this for future readers.**

 **Secondly, this chapter is long. I was going to split it but I have a thing about odd numbers and decided against it. This will be the last chapter and I would love to hear your thoughts!**

 **Chapter 4**

"Hermione?" Draco rushed down the hallway, his heart racing. He had barely sat the baby down when he heard the small squeak. His mind screamed as he thought about what might be waiting for him in the living room.

"It's all right-" she said as he rounded the corner and he saw _her_.

Except, it wasn't it her. She was different, softer than her sister and less cutting. Her hair was pulled away from her face, exposing her rosy cheekbones. And where his aunt Bella had had a manic gleam in her eye, this woman had pain in hers. If all that wasn't enough then the small child in her arms would have been.

"Aunt Anna?" He asked softly.

The baby in her own arms cried out and she softly shushed it before she turned to him, "where is your mother?"

Draco swallowed, "not here."

"Is she al…"

"I think so-" Draco said, his heart heavy with the unknown. "She floo called...but it's been months."

"And you're Granger?"

Draco looked to where Hermione stood, staring at the baby in the woman's arms, her face pale, and Draco took a step towards her wanting to reach out and touch her. Hermione nodded.

"They've been looking for you." Andromeda said, shifting the child in her arms. "Those boys-"

Their baby in the room cried out then and Hermione stiffened beside him before she hurried out of the room and down the hall.

"What was that?" Andromeda asked.

Draco narrowed his eyes, "What are you doing here?"

"You're mother- she asked me for help. Getting the both of you out. We set up our old cabin with the fidelius charm. We were to meet here if things got bad. She would be waiting she said, with you. And I would know because she would send me her wand.

"And did she?"

Andromeda reached into her pocket, pulling out the long piece of wood. "It appeared not five minutes before I came here. I-"

Draco stepped forward, his throat tightening as he took the wand from the woman's grasp.

"That's not her wand- it's mine." he breathed, feeling the weight of his wand in his palm, his hands itching to use it just as the baby cried out from the back room once more.

"Draco, is that-" his aunt began but was cut off as Hermione appeared in the room, the baby laid upon her shoulder. "An infant?"

Draco moved towards Hermione, reaching out to touch the baby's back gently before Hermione moved to sit down, changing the infant's nappy with nimble fingers.

"Oh Merlin and Morgana-" his aunt sighed and Draco looked to see her looking at the baby before looking at him sadly.

"Why are you here?" he asked.

She shifted the child in her own arms, "Your mother and I were to meet here-"

"Why now?"

Andromeda swallowed, "It's the final battle. My daughter and her husband they're- they've gone to help him. To help Harry-"

"Tonks?" Hermione asked from where she now sat nursing the baby as both of them looked to her. "Tonks and Lupin are fighting?"

Andromeda nodded and moved further into the room, crossing to sit the baby down on the sofa and pull off her long cloak. "They contacted us not long after you were taken. They wanted to find you Hermione-"

"They're alright?"

Andromeda smiled wryly, "As alright as anyone can be in the midst of a war."

Hermione closed her eyes, breathing deeply as a smile crossed her lips and Draco had to fight against the surge of jealousy that swept through him. Shaking his head he turned back to his aunt, "You said this was our cabin?"

"My- my late husband and mine, yes," she said stiffly. "You used to come when you were a small boy. You used to play in the back garden while your mothers and I had tea."

Draco's brow furrowed, "You're a blood traitor, my mother said-"

Andromeda nodded, "I am, was, but if there is one thing we value as Black's it is family. Your mother and I kept in touch albeit infrequently. When she asked for my help for her and you, I knew it was her only chance I thought- I thought she would be here with you."

Draco felt as though his wand grew heavier in his hand. His mother was nothing if not a brilliant witch, almost as clever as the witch sitting on the couch holding pieces of his heart. This was a message.

"Where are they?"

"What?"

"Where is the battle?"

"Hogwarts," Andromeda said, her voice low and though it was steady he could hear it, the fear that mingled in between her words, "They've gone to Hogwarts."

* * *

She knew almost as soon as the older witch had spoken; could see it in his eyes.

"Draco, no," she said quickly.

"Hermione-"

"No," she said more forcefully and the baby jumped against her breast, "You can't- you can't leave me. You can't leave us."

There was a pause, the briefest of moments where she thought, perhaps, he might stay.

He moved quickly, then, moving closer to bend over and press his lips to hers and then to the soft tiny forehead that was nestled against her chest.

"I'm sorry-" he whispered, "I have to go."

She choked back a sob, "Take me with you."

He shook his head, already moving away from her. "You need to stay, for her."

"Draco-" she cried, moving to stand up and he stepped to the door and opened it.

He turned back at the last moment, his foot on the step as he looked at her, "I love you Hermione Granger and i'm sorry."

"Then don't- don't go. Take me with you."

He shook his head, his gray eyes sad before he smiled a sad sort of smile, "I need to know you're safe...besides, she still needs a name."

And with that, he was gone.

* * *

He had no idea what he was doing save for the fact that it felt as though he had ripped his heart from behind his breastbone.

He wanted to go back. To stay with her and Andromeda, to hold the baby against his chest once more but he couldn't. He knew his mother's message was meant for him. His wand.

He thought of the only place he could go as he apparated and when he landed he nearly vomited, feeling the cold air rush through his lungs. He was just outside the bounds of the castle, the forest to his right. He could hear the sounds of the night around him and he wondered, briefly, if his aunt had been wrong.

"Expelliarmus," his wand flew out of his hand and before he could turn around he felt the wand tip pressing into his neck, "Don't. Move."

"Potter," he drawled, swallowing as the wand pressed harder into his neck. He turned to look at the man standing beside him. He had a wild gleam in his eye, as though he wasn't afraid to lose everything. Draco couldn't say he didn't know how he felt.

"I should do it," Harry sneered, "Right here where your precious death eater family will find you."

He closed his eyes, taking a breath, before he nodded, "Do what you must Potter but- Hermione is alive. She's with my aunt Andromeda in a safe house. She's safe for now but-" he closed his eyes. A younger version of himself would have hated him at the moment as he opened them to look directly into Potter's glare, "Please make sure she's safe. Make sure _they're_ safe."

He closed his eyes, waiting for the curse that didn't come.

"Go, to the castle," Potter said suddenly, releasing the wand from his neck.

Draco watched as the boy- man, before him turned and walked towards the forest.

"Where are you going Potter?" he asked quietly.

Potter didn't stop as he turned to look over his shoulder, "To end this."

* * *

Hermione worried her lip as she paced the floor. Her heart was racing and aching all at the same time. Andromeda sat on the couch, the two infants on the floor in front of her.

"She- she looks like Draco when he was that age," the witch said softly and Hermione turned to see her looking not at the baby but at her. "Miss Granger-"

"Give me your wand."

"What?"

Hermione stepped forward, "I'm going one way or another. Give me your wand."

The witch shook her head but pulled it out of her sleeve anyway and Hermione reached out easily, plucking it from her fingers. She bent down then, pulling the baby into her arms and kissing her soft downy head as she whispered her goodbyes into her hair and took one last breath of her daughter, trying to commit her scent to memory.

"I'm sorry-" she finally said as she looked to Andromeda. The witch nodded and reached out and Hermione gently settled the baby into the other witches arms.

She turned then, forcing herself towards the door before she could change her own mind but stopped just at the threshold, her hand on the knob as she turned back to the witch.

"Her name is Minette. It means- faithful warrior. And she's-"

"A Malfoy?"

Hermione bit her lip and said nothing more as she slipped out of the door and into the night, the sound of her departure ringing through the night sky.

* * *

The smell of death seemed to permeate the air as Draco approached the castle. He tried to look anywhere except at the large building but he couldn't help but see the scorch marks of curses and the spilled blood that littered the stone beneath his feet.

It was no longer the home of his youth, the sanctity diminished by the horrors that had happened and he felt like a coward as he walked in only now, after the fighting had ended.

He walked unnoticed through the castle doors, noting the people inside the great hall but he continued past, unable to face them yet.

His hands shook as he walked up the staircase, stepping around the crumbling bits of the structure until he reached the third floor.

He had no idea where he was going, or what he was going to do when he got there but he didn't know where to go. Or who he was.

Not anymore.

He made it to the fifth floor when he heard it, the sounds of yelling coming from down below. He paused, leaning against the wall for a moment before he turned and went back down the steps he had just ascended. The cacophony grew louder, the din not loud enough to discern but loud enough to know that the skirmish had started once more. He yearned for a wand, for something to help defend his home and the people in it.

And then, as he reached the second floor, he saw her. He cried out and she turned from where she stood beside a fallen death eater and ran full hilt at him.

"I thought-"she cried, throwing her arms around him.

"The baby-"

"Is fine. She's not alone but… but you were and I couldn't- I couldn't leave you Draco." Hermione cried.

Draco shushed her, reaching up to swipe at the tears that streaked her cheeks with the pad of his thumb.

"Step away from the mudblood Draco-" his father's voice sounded behind them and Draco clenched his teeth so hard he feared they would crack inside his skull. "Don't want to get caught up in that mess."

Draco pulled his hands from Hermione and ignored her pleading look as he pushed away from her, walking towards his father. Lucius smiled at him, reaching out with one arm to welcome his son. Instead of accepting the proffered arm, however, Draco reached out and took a swing, knocking his father square in the jaw.

Lucius was thrown off balance, hitting the wall behind him and Draco took advantage, grabbing his father's shirt in his fist and pressing his forearm against his throat.

"What are you doing son?" his father asked.

"What I should have done long ago," Draco sneered.

"Draco-" Hermione said from behind him, her voice frantic. "Draco please."

Lucius sneered, his eyes gazing behind his son before a look of understanding finally dawned upon his features.

"You've fallen for mudblood filth. How...romantic," the man spat.

Draco tightened his grip upon his father, "the only filth here is you father. For what you did… to her."

"I did what I had to do to keep us alive," he croaked.

"Draco, please," Hermione said again, quieter this time and he turned his head to look over his shoulder to see her staring at them her brown eyes wide with worry.

Draco loosened his grip, stepping back from his father and smoothing out his own clothes.

"You will stay away from us," he started, "From me, from mother, from Hermione. And most importantly from her daughter."

Lucius paled then, his eyes going to Hermione and he looked as though he were going to be ill himself, "Daughter? I- what-"

Draco nodded, "It's exactly what you think it is."

"I have a-"

"No," Draco roared, his face hot and his heart thumping painfully against his breastbone. " _ **I**_ have a daughter and you will never set eyes upon her."

"Draco-" Lucius started, his voice low but the young man wasn't listening.

Instead he turned and walked back to Hermione, pulling her face into his hands and kissing her forehead, "Let's go, we'll tell the aurors where he is."

They turned to go back down the stairs, their hands intertwined. Draco didn't look back.

Which was why he didn't see his father pull his wand.

* * *

The body bind curse hit Draco, sending him toppling to the floor. Hermione whirled around, Andromeda's wand held aloft just as Lucius dispatched it from her grasp.

"Now dear, has no one ever taught you how to treat your elders," the man clicked his tongue as he walked forward. "Not to mention the father of your bastard…"

Hermione held her head high as he approached but said nothing.

"Where is the child?" he asked as he got closer and Draco grunted from where he lay silenced.

"You're mad if you think I would _ever_ tell you-" she hissed.

Lucius sneered, "I hate to do this, I really do but you're leaving me no option," he raised his wand and Draco's muted screams grew louder but instead of pointing it at her he aimed it at Draco, " _crucio_ "

Hermione screamed and jumped towards the man but he shook his head, twisting his wand as his own son writhed on the floor.

"Stop!" she screamed.

"The child Miss Granger," Lucius said again.

"I don't- I can't tell you," she said hurriedly, thinking of the fidelius charm.

"Pity," he raised his wand again, "Believe me Draco, this hurts me more than it hurts you."

Hermione screamed again, covering her mouth with her hand as she waited for the attack. It never came.

As suddenly as Lucius had raised his wand, his face crumpled, his back arching and then he fell to the floor. Hermione whirled to see Narcissa Malfoy standing behind him, tears streaking her face and her wand held aloft.

Lucius dead at their feet.

* * *

Draco was shaky as he stood, his knees trembling as Hermione helped him to his feet. His mother was there on his other side, her cheeks wet and her own hands shaking.

"Mother," he said softly, reaching out to her and grasping her hand.

"I couldn't let him-"

"I know," Draco comforted her and she fell into his arms, sobbing against his shoulder. He ignored the lancing pain in his side as he brought his arm around to comfort her.

"Draco," Hermione's voice said softly, "You're hurt."

His mother pulled away then as Hermione reached out and pushed up his shirt, showing the slash from where he had fallen on the broken stone, across his hip.

"I'm fine," he grimaced.

"No, you're not. Let's get you back to the great hall, I saw Madam Pomfrey," Hermione's tone left no room for argument and Draco grunted but allowed them to lead him carefully down the last set of steps.

Entering the Great Hall was disconcerting.

The normal chatter had died away though there were groups talking quietly amongst themselves. The mood of the room was somber yet, lighter somehow. Draco grimaced as he saw a few of the eyes move to them, settling on their figures as they entered.

There was a ripple of murmuring moving across the hall like a stone tossed across the black lake and then-

"Mione!" Hermione breathed, her hands falling from Draco as she moved forward and away from him and he instantly felt her loss. The Weasel was by her side in seconds, Potter close on his heels as they grasped each other in the middle of the hall.

The Golden Trio reunited.

"Come Draco-" his mother said softly, pulling him away from the reunion and towards the healers making their way around the room.

He wanted to argue, to stay and watch the happy reunion but he let himself be pulled away, ignoring the hole in his chest.

* * *

"Mione!" Ron's voice called from across the hall and Hermione felt as though the air had rushed her lungs as she saw the boys racing towards her.

They were here, they were perfect, and she realized as they collided in the middle of the room how much she had missed them.

Ron's arms were around her, squeezing her too tightly against him but she didn't dare complain as she relished in the feel of it. Harry was soon with them, his arms wrapping around both of them.

"I'm so sorry-" Ron said again and again.

"Ronald," she finally said, reaching down to lift his face to hers. "I'm here, I'm alright."

"Hermione," Harry started after a moment and she could see the red rimmed of his eyes growing wet once more. "Malfoy said-"

She turned then, looking for him and finding him easily as though she was connected to him even in the large crowd that had gathered to fight for them.

"Where were you?" Harry asked quietly.

Hermione sighed, her chest heavy as Draco looked up and met her eyes. As their gazes met the line between his brows softened and he relaxed under the healer's capable hands. "It's a long story."

"We've got time-" Ron said, reaching out to grasp her hand with his own.

It had been so long she realized, that the sudden movement made her flinch and she took a deep breath through her nose as the sounds of voices seemed to become muted.

"Mione?" Ron asked, moving towards her and she took an involuntary step back.

She needed to leave. She needed to run. She needed- she needed-

* * *

Draco saw it the moment it happened and he didn't give a damn about the healer who was working to close up the wound on his side.

He didn't care about the searing pain that ripped through him as he hurriedly moved off the table turned makeshift bed.

He only cared about her.

"Back up Weasley," he said to the man before him.

"Malfoy-"

"Stop, Ron-" Potter said quietly and Malfoy threw him a grateful nod as he moved around the witch so that he was far enough away but close enough. Always close enough.

"Granger-" he said, his voice firm but gentle and her harried brown eyes met his. "You're here, you're safe."

She nodded but her chest heaved in contradiction.

"Hermione-" he said softly, his eyes never leaving hers as he held his hand out, palm up, "I'm right here."

It was her choice then as they stood in the middle of the dismantled Great Hall just as it had been her choice before. Her choice to stay with him, her choice to love him.

"Draco-" she breathed as her hand slid into his and he gently tugged her towards him.

He rested his forehead against hers, watching her close her eyes as her breaths slowly began to even out before he finally pulled back, placing a kiss upon her forehead. He made to pull away, to give her space with her friends, instead she held tightly to him; anchoring him to her side.

"Stay?" She asked.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said as he brought her hand up to kiss her knuckles, "Not without you."

She smiled at him, squeezing his fingers one last time before she turned back to the boys before her. His eyes never left her.

* * *

Hermione told them.

Mostly everything.

The weight of Draco's hand in her own seemed to spur her forward as she told the boys of her time in captivity at Malfoy Manor. Of how she had thought she was going to die and of how she wished for it. She spared them the details and as Harry swore and Ron looked like he was going to be ill from little she told them, she stood by that decision.

And then she told them of their escape.

Of how Narcissa Malfoy had risked her life to get her to safety. To get them to safety. Of how Draco had nursed her back to health.

Ron had turned a rather brilliant shade of scarlet at that, his nostrils flaring as he looked between the two of them and she waited.

"Why didn't you come then?" he snapped finally and Harry sighed.

"I- I couldn't-" she said quietly.

"Because of _him?"_ The man snarled, "Do you have any idea what we went through trying to find you?"

"No," Hermione said lowly but the man continued on.

"And where were you when we had to bury Dobby or tonight when Fred died?"

Hermione choked.

"That's enough Weasel," Draco said roughly from beside her, pulling her into his side.

"No, no he's right. I should have- but, I couldn't," she swallowed thickly.

"And why the hell not?" Ron snapped.

It was then that she heard it, the tiniest of cries and she turned quickly her eyes wandering through the crowd until she saw the witch.

"Draco-"

"I see her," he said and then he called out to his aunt, he raised his hand but lowered it quickly, pushing it onto the half healed wound on his hip.

Andromeda walked assuredly towards them, the moses basket in her hand clenched tightly, her face drawn and pale.

"I heard- I had to see-" she explained hurriedly but Hermione wasn't listening as she moved the blanket and smiled at her daughter, gently picking her up from her bed.

"Bloody hell-" someone swore and Hermione turned towards the people that had gathered

"I couldn't come because I had to care for my daughter," she explained fiercely.

"What did you do?" Ron snarled, his face growing redder by the second as he looked at Draco behind her.

"Ronald," she sighed.

The man wasn't listening to her however as he pushed forward, his fists clenched and Hermione gasped as he came toe to toe with Draco Malfoy.

She couldn't see this ending well.

"Ron!" she cried as the man grabbed Malfoy's collar, twisting it tightly as he pushed him back. "Stop!"

"You stupid, bloody ferret," The redhaired wizard spat, "Can't keep your hands to yourself?"

Hermione's hands shook, her ears clouding once again and she felt as though the room were spinning. She could see Draco's eyes on hers and she knew she needed to do something. To save him. Her lungs refused to obey as she held her daughter to her chest.

Ron pulled his wand from his sleeve, pointing it at the man in his clutches, the tip pressing into his cheek and Hermione did the only thing she could do.

"Ron he didn't do this. Stop. Please," she cried, her heart hammering so hard in her chest she feared the baby against her might feel it. "Please, he didn't- he didn't do this. It wasn't him and I love him."

The man turned his head, his mouth agape as he looked at her and then at the tuft of white blonde hair sticking up from below her chin and she knew that he _knew_.

She glanced to Harry and saw the rage behind his eyes as he too stared at the baby in her arms.

Draco however moved, pulling away from Ron as he moved towards her, pulling her against him and kissing her head before he addressed the two men before him, "Do what you must but I'm not leaving until they're somewhere safe."

"He did-"

Draco tensed beside her, "He's dead, she's safe and… That's all that matters."

And Hermione realized as she held the hungry, squirming baby in her arms, and felt his hand on the small of her back, that he was right.

* * *

A year.

The winds of change had blown and the world- their world- was different.

Not better. Not fixed.

But different.

Draco stood in the kitchen of the Burrow feeling out of place as the people around him talked and laughed.

His mother was somewhere with his aunt, having been welcomed into the fold before him as easily as breathing. He supposed they had meant to include him too but it still felt off. Like he didn't quite belong.

He could see it in the too long glances and the stiffness in shoulders when he would walk into a room. He supposed it could be worse.

He thought of the death eaters in Azkaban those who had done not much worse than he had. How he had gotten so lucky was beyond him. Of course, he realized without her he would be right there with him.

He had been escorted away, an auror on either side but he had been allowed to tell her goodbye. He had kissed her softly and hugged the baby to his chest, promising he would come back to her if she would let him.

Time had dragged by slowly in the days following that. The cell was too small and cramped and he missed the cabin. He missed the warm weight of the newborn on his chest as he napped on the couch. He missed _her._

He expected her to realize she didn't need him. To realize that whatever they had between them had been forged in war and the need for _someone_. What he hadn't expected was the click clack of her heels as she marched along with the guard down the hall and waited with her arms crossed sternly over her chest as the guard unlocked the door.

He hadn't been able to breathe, her anger so palpable that he expected another slap.

But then.

Then she had rushed through the bars and pulled him into her arms, kissing him ferociously against the mouth.

"I am so sorry Draco," she seethed. "You never should have been in here to begin with but the ministry." she ground out and made herself stop. "Anyway, let's go."

"Go where?" he had asked, looking at her quizzically.

She had smiled and grabbed his hand, pulling him out of the open doorway, "Home of course."

And that was how he found himself entangled with the Weasley's. Standing awkwardly to the side as they all talked and laughed amongst themselves. He could see her- could see _them-_ from where he was standing and it was enough.

"She's beautiful you know," the voice startled him and he turned to see Molly standing beside him, staring at the same scene he was.

He nodded, "I know."

He had no idea if she was talking about the fair haired little girl sitting in her mother's lap, her blonde curls bouncing as she moved her head excitedly or the woman who held her and honestly he didn't care.

"You know, it's amazing how well she's doing," Molly said quietly and Draco nodded once more, his eyes never leaving his girls. "I don't doubt it has something to do with you. You're a good lad Draco."

He averted his gaze then, looking at the elder witch who was looking at him with a soft smile on her lips, "I know it hasn't been easy for you but that baby and her wouldn't be here with you. We all know it. We all can't thank you enough."

He scoffed, "I didn't do anyt-"

"Oh but you did," she said simply. "You aren't your father Draco. His sins are not yours."

He swallowed.

"You're a sweet boy Draco and an even better father." she smiled, "Now go put this on the table and tell everyone it's time to eat."

He smiled to himself as she thrust a plate of roast beef into his hands and hurried off as though nothing had transpired between them at all. He waited only half a beat before he did as he was told, moving through the converging people to find them.

"Hey," she smiled as she stood up, "I wondered where you'd gotten off to."

Draco returned her smile and leaned down to brush his lips against hers, "Just helping Molly."

Hermione laughed, "You'll find out soon enough that you should find somewhere else to be when she's cooking or else you'll end up having to help."

"I don't mind," Draco smiled.

"Da-Da!" the baby said excitedly and Hermione laughed as she reached up to the man before her.

"Yes, yes, Daddy is here little love," Draco said as he slipped the baby from her arms and placed a kiss upon the soft ringlets upon her head.

They walked to the table together then, Minette in his arms and her mother by his side.


End file.
